


Nightmares

by ChatDeLaMort



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Nightmare, Pain, maybe charles has a crush on erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3414527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChatDeLaMort/pseuds/ChatDeLaMort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik is used to get nightmares but that doesn't make it any better. Charles really tries to help him, but what could he possibly do? But he tries and tries...</p><p>Short story about one of those nights in which Erik is loosing himself in his nightmares and Charles wishes to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

It wasn't by far the first Time Erik was struggeling with nightmares and, fuck it, it wouldn't be the last when he ripped Charles out of dreamland with a bloodcurdling cry. It wasn't the first time he coughed and gasped grabbing air, drowning in tears, woozily splattering phrase schreds and screwing the door's bolts in and out with a disturbing, creaking sound. And it wasn't the first time Charles, only one door, only one thin wall and many hours of worried insomnia away, bored himself into Erik's consciousness like a thief, to save Erik's naked, tremolous Self from the darkness of past and memories which sometimes, in some uncontrolled moments tore down his inner walls.

 

But it was the first time Erik called for him from the start, desperate and stricken with fear called his name: _BrotherCome, BrotherHelpMe, PleaseCharlesPlease, TakeItAwayCharles_ yelled the raspy voice blindly into the night, _TakeItAwayPleaseCharlesPlease_ and with the words there came the dreams. No images, images he didn't see often, because they weren't the ones burning Erik up from the inside. It was the pain, unbearable, gnawing, tearing pain in his arms getting roughly pulled onto his back, in his hands spiked by Shaw with a rusty treenail, in his neck, his almost frozen toes, his fingertips and his multiple broken rips. Pain in this deepest soul when he heard the shot, saw, felt the bullet's mouvement in his veins, his hands suddenly so warm and at the same time so terrifying numb, finding himself in the bullet's metal, he _was_ the bullet and he dug himself into his own mother's flesh, so warm and, oh, so soft, biting into her lungs and wrapping himself in her blood.

 

Charles felt it, felt what Erik survived all too often, tasted the blood when the little boy bit his tongue, heard the bright voice of a scared boy whispering polish and yiddish words he didn't understand, in between the word MAMA like a horrific brand of all the pain.

 

He reached out, yelled _HereErik, IAmHere, I'mComing_ and he ran and ran until his lungs burnt but he couldn't find him, only heard him crying while crying himself, not sensing the tears running down his nose and cheeks while calling for his friend, dragging all the trash and the debris in Eriks mind out of the way to reach the man who in his own, horrible head was just a small boy fearing the world.

 

 _CHARLES_ gasped the voice and _erik_ he whispered back, his whole mind focused on the search for a spark of the bursting mutant. If he catched a glimpse of him, just a flashing, a blink of Erik's presence, he could find him, find him here, in all this dirt filled with hate and fear and solitude, like he always found him, had always done it, again and again when the nights forced the great man to coil himself up. He was younger, he was more fragile, he grew up in a protected bubble – but if Erik allowed him to, Charles wouldn't hesitate for a second to shoulder all the excruciating memories and all the mad thoughts at least for some hours to afford the exhausted mutant some sleep.

 

But Erik couldn't let him, couldn't let go of the horror and noise in his head. They've tried, oh boy, how had they tried to calm him. And sometimes, sometimes it seemed to work, sometimes it was enough when Charles put him to sleep, filling the man's mind with his own memories of laughter and the smell of christmas cookies, the taste of fresh, ice cold lake water in the morning or the feeling of putting an arm around Raven and for the first time not seeing her flinch. Sometimes all it needed was the company in the evening, the two men sitting in the same room playing chess or reading and when Erik passed out on the couch, carried away by the warmth of the fire place and Charles' absent-minded mumbling and humming, the younger covered him with a blanket and stayed up all night studying just to make sure Erik wouldn't wake up to being alone.

 

Charles knew he was too protective, too patronising, too worried about Erik's sanity, that he cared way too much than he otherwise, for other people would consider as mentally healthy. He was aware that Erik had survived years, decades without him and his sorrowfull thoughts and yet he threw himself into this man and the Don-Quijote-alike fight against the anger and agony, he fought his way inside his soul and then, _there_ , he finally found him. Found the shattered pieces of a strong man laying in ashes and mud, puking words and pain onto the last bit of his own mind's clarity.

 

And Erik stopped. Stopped mumbling and babbling, turned his head and looked up. Looked through Charles with an emptiness in his eyes that broke Charles' heart. _Charles?_ Erik susurrated tentatively in a random-seemingly direction, _CharlesAreYouThere?_ , one hand reached out timourusly, eyes focussed on something only he could see in the blank space. _I'mColdCharlesWhyAmICold?_

 

And then Charles knew he was too late again, like so often in the last time, too late to rip Erik away from drowning in the darkness and the nothingness, that he had lost the race and that the madness had taken her prize.

He sat down lifting the laying man's head on his lap where he could stare into the clouds and covered Erik's face with his hands. "I stay.", he said quietly to the lost friend. "I'm here and I stay until you come back."

One day it wouldn't be enough anymore to bring Erik back from the hell he went through now, Charles was aware of that. But he would be damned if he didn't even try.

**Author's Note:**

> My second FanFiction within a decade, hurray. And one from the X-Men :)! I like the X-Men. And I always loved the complicate and yet so easy friendship between Professor X and Magneto, filled with deep trust and understanding and respect. They have a great connection despite their different opinions in everything else.
> 
> I really liked the Michael-Fassbender-and-James-McAvoy-Version, so I got the two in mind while writing this, they play them so young and strong.
> 
> Wrote this in two hours. Again, english is not my native language and I still haven't got a beta. So if the text sounds weird... I'm not at all sorry ;).


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